


Induction Reflex

by Marie_L



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barbed Penis, Captivity, Episode: s02e01 Designate This, F/M, Forced to rape, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Procedures, Pain, tied down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-06 22:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_L/pseuds/Marie_L
Summary: According to Manticore regulations, when a non-compliant transgenic soldier cannot be rehabilitated, organ donation will be the use of last resort. Unfortunately for both X5-452 and 494, egg collection proves to be a bitch.





	Induction Reflex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missjane2000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjane2000/gifts).



> Note to unsuspecting Dark Angel fans wandering into this story: It was written for Darkest Night, a darkfic exchange. So, uh, mind the tags?

X5-494 walked into one of the containment rooms with only the faintest hesitation. The orders were difficult, but he was required to carry them out, lest he be the one picked apart for organ recycling. 494 knew he was on thin ice with Command, given his genetic twin’s aberrant behavior, and that dimly recalled failed mission scratching bloodily in his head. He pushed the doubt out of his mind, for another black mark was just not going to happen.

The woman contained in the room was completely nude, and restrained spread-eagle on a reclined medical chair, adjusted to convenient waist height. She was bolted down at the ankles, wrists, waist and neck and head, the last he guessed due to some last-ditch rebellious head banging, and Command evidently wasn’t going to allow any easy exit like that. Her labia was swollen and dribbled with dried blood from the previous rapes. She was staring straight at the ceiling, without deigning to flicker so much as an eye movement towards him, and he recognized her face as identical to her embryo split, 453.

494 decided he had to talk to her before proceeding, even though this would likely earn him demerits for carrying out the mission in an inefficient manner. None of the other inseminators had been X5s, that he knew of. For the repeated mating stimulus they had let the normie guards enjoy themselves, since none of them were contributing genetically to the event. It was important for 494 to let her know that he was under orders, not volunteering, not violating the unwritten X5 code to not harm each other of their own free will.

He walked around to her side, within easier eyeshot from her restrained position. Now she did look at him, and her eyes widened in recognition.

“Ben?” she said. “Pretty sure I killed you, dude.”

494 cleared his throat. “You’re thinking of 493. From your unit.” _The crazy escaped unit that_ _’s been the bane of my existence_ went unsaid. “I’m 494. They did a lot of embryo splitting back in the day. Two soldiers for the price of one. They did bring back 493 about six months ago, necked snapped. He went to organ donation too.”

She resumed staring at the ceiling. “Glad I put him out of his misery then. So he wouldn’t have to endure…this.” Her voice cracked, though. She wasn’t glad at all. The escapees had a code too.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Then added: “You know I don’t have any choice. They…”

“They ordered you in here, because some regular normies fucking me wasn’t enough. You are just as much of an idiot as Ben. He thought he didn’t have a choice too.”

494 didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. The escapees lived lives of unimaginable freedom compared to the soldiers they left behind. And if his twin had refused to take advantage of that, it was his owned damned fault. He sure as hell would live it up if he ever got out of here. But 494 didn’t have the right to argue it out with her, not under these circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll try to make it quick.” Another unspoken rule among the X5s: if you couldn’t get out of an awful order against a unit-mate — to beat someone, to punish them, to stun them and drag them to psy-ops, whatever it was — then you always held back in some way that only a another transgenic would notice. Most of their supervisors couldn’t tell. Lydecker was the only one with a keen eye towards the true level of their abilities, and he tacitly let it go.

She actually snorted. “Oh come on, you may as well have some fun while you are here.” All the others did. I can smell your fucking horniness all the way over here.”

That annoyed him, but he tried not to let it show. “You’re in heat. Every guy within 100 meters has probably got it up, whether they like it or not. You think this is how I wanted to first…” He cut off, having revealed more than he should. Showed weakness. The guards and Renfro were probably watching on a camera somewhere, laughing their asses off.

“First?” she said, and it wasn’t in a mocking tone, only surprise. “This place is filled with superhuman twenty-year-olds, I figured you’d all be knocking it behind the scenes.”

“They do. I don’t. I have an… anomaly. Why I’m the lucky soldier to be in here with you today.”

“What? What nomalie?” she asked, and for the first time a small bit of fear crept into her voice.

“Same as you. Too much feline in the mix.”

He walked away from her head and back down to her legs, vowing to get the job done. He hadn’t touched her yet, but now gently placed a hand palm down on her lower abdomen, above the inflamed pudenda. Her skin was warm and soft and slightly clammy from old sweat. She wriggled back a fraction of an inch, repulsed at first at the unauthorized contact. But then the uncontrolled hormones of the heat got the best of her, and her muscles unconsciously shifted towards him. Her cunt was suddenly dripping despite the previous wounds, and the room became permeated with intoxicating hormones that made 494 rock hard.

“Did they even tell you why they’re doing this?” he asked.

“Injections. Hormones. Heat,” she gritted out. “I thought at first they were trying to knock me up, but no, an organization like Manticore’s got to be more efficient than that. Egg collection. Apparently my wacked-out body refuses to pop them the old-fashioned IVF way.”

“That’s right,” 494 said softly. “Induced ovulation.” He stroked her belly slightly, just to feel a fraction more of her lovely skin.

“Can you _not_ do that?” she complained, and with a whiff of regret 494 removed his hand. He would have liked to touch her more, all over, the soft breasts especially, for he’d never gotten to the point of feeling them up on a real live girl. The anomaly had been discovered early, and he hadn’t trusted himself enough to so much as fool around. 452 was beautiful like all the other X5s, and he idly thought of what it would be like to fuck her under less lopsided rapey circumstances. Like if they had simply been put in here together, without her being tied down so she could fight back, but they still had their nomalie cunts and dicks dripping and hard and betraying them? If he’d been ordered to catch her, and she was so far gone hormonally that she didn’t care if she was caught? Would that be better or worse?

It didn’t matter.

He loosened the center button on his pants and pulled them down. At this point his cock looked pretty normal, although she likely couldn’t see it from her position. He lined himself up with her puffy opening and closed his eyes, clueless how hard he should push.

“Do it,” he heard her small voice say. The words were more for her, he decided, some weird semblance of an order. He didn’t delude himself that it was permission, though.

He eased in. Her pussy clamped down with exquisite pleasure all around his cock — far better than any of his fleeting attempts at masturbation. He leaned over her, propping himself up with arms on either side of her hips, and willed himself not to touch her. It would feel so good to lie on top of her, rest, feel that skin as they both moved. But she couldn’t move, and touching her seemed to compound the violation, so he tried to hold off.

“ _Do it_. Finish the job and get out of here,” she hissed, but her body strained toward him. The brain and the cunt disagreed, and she couldn’t override the brain like a normal X5. She had been gone too long outside Manticore.

He slid out and back in, much harder this time. She sucked in a breath with tiny squeal. “They told me I had to be rough, or they may have to keep sending me in here,” he told her. She gave him a single nod, clenched her fists, and screwed tight her eyes. He closed his again too.

He began to build up a rhythm, a little more sure now. _Aim for the anterior vagina,_ they said, so he guessed and did. The scent grew stronger with each hard shove, along with her slickness. He gripped the sides of the table for better purchase, and the whole apparatus shook when he rammed into her.

At first each stroke moved smoothly, and he moaned. But soon 494 felt the telltale resistance of the spines popping, dragging along her interior walls. He opened his eyes and braved a glance down with dread.

452’s flung open her eyes too. “Oh God, what the fuck is that?”

“Mechanical stimulation,” he said through clenched teeth. He had warned her it would hurt. But now he didn’t slow down or stop, for it would only prolong the inevitable pain.

On his end it felt both abrasively uncomfortable and bracingly erotic. Like something was gripping his dick with just the right amount of pressure to rev him up, with only a background tinge of discomfort. The girl, however, was breathing in heavy gasps in time with each harsh thrust. Her vag was pouring out pink-tinged fluid, but it didn’t seem to be protecting much.

494 tried to judge how close he was, whether he should slow down or just go for broke, which would cause the least harm. He had no frame of reference for this unparalleled pleasure. Her involuntary whimpering, so uncharacteristic for an X5 enduring a harsh mission, let him know hat he needed to be quicker. So he opted for maximum stimulation of himself, feeing slightly sick about it for the first time. That, heat or no heat, his pleasure would always equal her agony, and it was going to be true for every sexual encounter for the rest of his life. He was never going to know anything different, and in that instant would have preferred to have his dick chopped off than be forced to do this ever again.

But that feeling too didn’t matter.

The slippery gratification shifted for him at the end, taking on a searing edge. He pushed through it, knowing everything was near an end. When he came it had the warm satisfaction sinking a knife into soft fruit, and slicing off your own digit in the process. 452 shrieked and bucked into the restraints, choking herself in the process. 494 tried to hold still through his own gasping, nearly collapsing on her clammy abdomen. He manage to stay himself as she swallowed her screams, and they both realized together that it wasn’t completely over yet.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, this sucks so fucking much, just do i…”

He ripped out of her on the last word, while she was distracting herself with swearing. She hollered yet again, this time with more of the bellowing anger of someone getting punched. This was the point where he vaguely knew the tomcat got his ass scratched up and beaten by the female cat, and he couldn’t say he blamed her.

He thought about asking if she was okay, but a quick glance at her genital region showed she decidedly was not. She was bleeding heavily now that it wasn’t plugged up, enough to drip off the table and obscure the previous puffiness. His dick felt like it was half broken too. He opted for a mumbled “sorry” before jamming his junk back in his pants and turned to get the hell out of there.

She called after him in a weak voice, “Tell Renfro I call uncle. I’ll be a good little girl if they let me out of these damned restraints.”

He turned halfway back, barely able to face her. “You’re already in organ donation. It might not make any difference.”

“Maybe not. But that bitch really wanted to break me, so… tell her it worked.”

She had tried to keep her tone pitiful, but some element of it keyed him off that it was bullshit. He looked up at her for real. She was already back to steely staring at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. The bleeding had stopped, and so had the intoxicating scent of arousal and heat.

“Sure, 452,” he said.

“Max,” she muttered. “My name is Max.”

“Sure thing, Max,” he murmured, and rapped on the door for the waiting and listening guards to let him out.

  



End file.
